


Sunlight Coffee

by TheAllKnowingOwl



Series: Sunlight Coffee [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Books, Coffee, Eventual Arima Kishou/Kanekie Ken | Sasaki Haise, F/M, Gen, Ghoul Arima Kishou, Human Kaneki Ken, M/M, POV Arima Kishou, Random Kafka Commentary, Rarepair, This Author Has Not Read Kafka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 06:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAllKnowingOwl/pseuds/TheAllKnowingOwl
Summary: It’s the light that makes Arima notice him at first.Well, that’s a lie. But it’s the light that makes his notice stick.





	Sunlight Coffee

It’s the light that makes Arima notice him at first.

 

Well, that’s a lie. But it’s the light that makes his notice  _ stick _ .

 

Truthfully, Arima doesn’t even know the boy exists until that day in the coffee shop. He’d heard of Anteiku before, naturally. A cafe run by ghouls, existing in his own ward?  _ Inconceivable _ . So, he’d visited. Just to make sure.

 

And sure enough, the moment he’d entered, the wood-smoke odour of the ghoulish staff and assorted customers had hit his nostrils. He’d almost run: the Reaper of the 20th Ward survived from self-imposed isolation. But the coffee was good, the decor was cozy and it was a good place to absorb information. Old Yoshimura wasn’t as secretive as he thought, and the rest of his staff barely bothered keeping quiet around other ghouls, let alone the human clientele.

 

So, once a week- sometimes twice- Arima drops by, a book at the ready should the gossip not hold his attention. Sen Takatsuki is his current favourite: the ill-kept secret of her ghoulishness an intoxicating remedy to the dullness of everyday life.

 

And it’s there, the One-Eyed Owl’s latest novel propped open on the condiments tray, that it first hits him.

 

That  _ smell _ .

 

Arima stiffens as the closing door sweeps the tantalising scent ever closer around him. The honeyed aroma hangs in the air around the Reaper, a sweet bouquet that dazzles his thoughts and entraps his mind. On instinct he turns, book forgotten in his desire to find the source of this delightful nectar. That delicate fragrance is everything and anything at once, and Arima must have the-

 

Anteiku’s amber light plays across fine strands of ebony hair, turning the perhaps unremarkable pigment an entrancing golden hue. Arima cannot reach from here, but he imagines that the ruffled locks would be silky beneath his fingertips. The young man, barely out of his teens, breathes the warm smell of the coffee shop deeply. His eyes are screwed up in contentment at the pervading essence of Anteiku, and unbidden, Arima is reminded of his first experience of the shop. The lids relax to reveal dove grey irises, and the Reaper’s lips quirk up in a barely-there smile in surprise.

 

Behind the counter, the blue-haired waitress nearly drops a tray. It’s not unexpected; Arima has never had reason to smile within the walls of Anteiku before.

 

The nameless boy walks round to a window seat, smiling idly at his bleach-blonde friend’s ceaseless chatter. Bathed in the mid-morning wash, he seems less fae-like. More natural. Somehow, this increased reality only makes Arima more intrigued.

 

His kagune tenses beneath his skin. His kakugan itches in preparation.

 

But he is not the Reaper for nothing.

 

Death is unavoidable. He will come in the end.

 

Sen Takatsuki’s work lies abandoned as he feasts his eyes on an entirely new kind of meal.

 

*****

This becomes his routine: for a week or more, Arima returns to Anteiku. Sometimes he carries a new book, but the rest is always the same- black coffee cooling in a pristine cup, an untasted cake lying picked to pieces on its plate.

 

To the baffled wait staff, his behaviour is startling. The Reaper never seeks out company when he can help it, especially not in an establishment frequented by humans. But he  _ is _ interested in one human in particular.

 

Kaneki Ken.

 

Investigative Gold.

 

Arima learns the name from the exuberant friend he brings some days. It’s hard not to, especially with the way the boy hissed at Nagachika for his actions. Arima had to stifle a few chuckles in his coffee over their interactions.

 

However, the Reaper lives for the days when Kaneki visits alone. These are the times when he falls into a book for a number of hours, and Arima relishes the opportunity to drag greedy eyes over the miles of milky, succulent skin. He feels a sudden urge to see crimson blood boil against that pale expanse. To sink his teeth in and lave his tongue over the stark wounds.

 

And it’s on one of these days that it happens.

 

For once, Arima is more absorbed in his novel than his person-watching. It’s a book he’d seen Kaneki reading a few days before: Kafka’s ‘ _ Crossbreed _ ’. The writing is a little dry for the Reaper’s taste, but he has an irrational need to delve into Kaneki’s mind before the hunt reaches his climax. Knowing his prey will only bring the creeping chase to a more satisfying end- or so Arima convinces himself.

 

Idly, he flicks his eyes towards the brunette, freezing when he finds Kaneki’s eyes locked on him. Cautiously, Arima smiles, giving careful hope that this might be the opening he’s looking for. Kaneki blushes, ducks his head, and an unbidden thought arises:

 

_ Perhaps he’ll go over. They’ll spend the afternoon talking, discussing books for long hours, until maybe Kaneki will _ -

 

A sultry chuckle disturbs his thoughts, and Arima stiffens as a familiar odour washes over him, accompanied by the sound of a distinctive hair being fluffed.

 

Rize.

 

_ Of course _ .

 

Irrational anger surges, and he sips his coffee to hide the grimace caused by his gritted teeth. All delight in his meal has vanished. The Binge Eater has her sights on  _ his _ prey, and she is  _ not _ one known for savouring.

 

Suddenly, a thought occurs to Arima: it’s simple. He’ll  _ let _ Rize hunt him, he’ll  _ let  _ the Binge Eater believe she’s succeeded in stealing his dinner, and just as she thinks Kaneki’s hers for the taking, only a moment from his death, the Reaper will sweep in to ‘save’ the day. He’ll snatch Kaneki right out under Rize’s nose.

 

If she has a face left at all by the time he’s done with her…

 

The boy will thank him. Kaneki’s eyes will well up with tears, he’ll pitch forward- hands outstretched as if in prayer- sniffling, no,  _ wailing _ out his gratitude to him.

 

Arima rather likes the idea of Kaneki on his knees. The image is quite delectable.

 

The boy’s friend has joined him by now, not so subtly taking glances at the harlot seated behind the Reaper. A half-hidden smile twists the corners of Arima’s lips ( _ oh _ ,  _ so gently _ !) as Nagachika accosts the ghoulish waitress. Touka runs, and as she does, Rize begins to make her move.

 

Carefully, the Reaper slides out of his seat silently. He stalks the Binge Eater. To any other- to any  _ human _ \- Arima would appear nonchalant. The hunt is only in their own heads. The game has begun.

 

As he reaches Kaneki’s table, the Reaper turns his head, staring directly into the boy’s eyes. This time, Kaneki reacts, his pupils encroaching on the irises’ silver territory as a fearful blush fills his cheeks. Arima smiles a full, cruel smile. His shoulder knocks into his competition’s, and their prey’s book falls to the floor.

 

Carrying on, the Reaper straightens his back imperceptibly and his face smooths into its usual blank expression.

 

His work here is done.


End file.
